mystery

Nonna’s Working On a Curse

by

Chapter 7

Nonna’s eyes remained closed. She began speaking in Italian.

Mickey nudged Zeke, “What’s she saying, the folks never taught me Italian?”

Zeke said, “She’s talking to Rocco, her dead husband.”

“What she asking him?” asked Mickey.

“She’s asking him to tell her what Tony is up to. Be quiet, I think Rocco’s talking to her, she’s nodding her head,” said Zeke.

“Can I ask her to talk to my Nonna? If she can’t, what about Johnny Gilarani? He owes me ten bucks? He was going to pay me on payday and then he went and got hit by a car.”

Before Zeke could answer Mickey, Nonna opened her eyes, she blessed herself six times. Pushed herself off her chair with considerable effort and walked to a kitchen cupboard. She opened the cupboard door. Inside the cupboard were three shelves of votive candles in varying sizes. She moved several around and cursed in Italian. These were words both Zeke and Mickey knew and frequently used.

“Ah, I got chu, you son of a bits,” said Nonna. She took hold of the votive candle and carried it to the table. She set it on the table, struck a match and lit it.

The glass container of the votive candle had a picture of a vulture picking at the carcass of a squirrel.

Nonna chanted words in Italian over the votive candle. When she finished, she looked at Zeke and Mickey and said, “The rabbit sleeps on a rainy day.”

“What she talking about?” Mickey whispered in Zeke’s ear.

Zeke ignored Mickey, “What else can you tell us Nonna?”

“Don’t taste the sauce until it’s cooked,” said Nonna.

Nonna closed her eyes again, folded her hands, and spoke, “The cow that’s about the give birth, waits for the apple to fall.”

“I understand what you’re saying, Nonna. Can you be clearer so I can explain it to Mickey?” said Zeke.

Nonna raised her eyes toward the ceiling and began speaking. She was gesturing wildly with her hands. She cursed, and swung her hand as if she was slapping at a fly. Nonna took a deep breath and opened her eyes. She said, “I was talking to Rocco. I think he’s having an affair with Margarita. I was worried, if he died he’d go looking for her as soon as he crossed over. She always had her fingers in him. I’m a going scratch her eyes out when I get to heaven. Then I’m a going ask Saint Peter to toss her into hell. “

“What did Rocco tell you about Tony Gallino?” asked Zeke.

“I give it to you straight. He said you boys are up the creek and you don’t got no paddle and you don’t got no boat. He said, you boys got less chance than a turkey the week before Thanksgiving.”

“Can you help us?” pleaded Zeke.

“I don’t got no time to you help you now. I gotta work on a curse on Margarita. Come back in three weeks. I see if I fit you in between curses.”

Poor Zeke and Mickey, what will they do? Are they really up the creek without a paddle?

It’s Our Lucky Day

by

Chapter 3

Tony Gallino told Zeke and Mickey what he needed done. The boys nodded. Tony left without saying a word. Gus kept washing beer mugs and shot glasses. He wanted no part of what he heard.

Zeke turned to Mickey, “Looks like our luck finally turned, we’re rolling in clover.”

Mickey placed his mug to his lips and let the beer roll down his throat without so much as a swallow reflex. He finished, put his mug on the bar, burped, and wiped his face on his bare forearm. He turned to Gus, “Gimmie one of those expensive dark beers. Put it on Tony’s tab.”

“Me too,” said Zeke.

“This is how it’s got to be to wake up and know you hit Powerball,” said Mickey.

Gus was pouring a draft of the dark larger into a mug and was thinking, what a couple of schmucks.

“It’s better than hitting Powerball. I’ll tell you why, Mickey. It’s a good thing we never hit the Powerball because everybody who hits it dies,” said Zeke.

“You got to be kidding me. And here I am buying ten tickets a week. I buy even more when the money gets up there. It’s like I’m asking to win so I can croak,” said Mickey reflexively sticking his left arm out to catch the sliding mug of larger.

Mickey turned toward Gus, “Me and you coulda played for the Sox. We’re a good combo. You play shortstop, me at second base. Nothing woulda got through.”

Gus said, “I could never hit a curve ball. You guys know everybody dies, right?”

“But they die faster if they win Powerball,” said Zeke defending his turf.

Gus shrugged, “If you say so.” He thought, no sense arguing with geniuses.

Zeke and Mickey clinked their dark lagers and took a long drink. Both guys went through the ritual of the burp and forearm wipe. Zeke said, “If we do good, we don’t have to look for work. Tony will bring us into his organization. Then we’ll be living the good life.”

Gus edged himself down the bar toward Zeke and Mickey. He got in front of them, wiped his hands on his apron, looked around the bar to make sure no one was listening. There was no one listening because they were the only people in the bar unless the Feds had bugged the place. This was always a possibility with his clientele.

Gus bent over toward the boys, he whispered, “How long I know you two guys?”

“Is this a trick question?” asked Mickey.

Zeke said, “You know us since you opened this place twenty years ago.”

“That’s a long time. Did I ever steer you guys wrong? Did I give you guys tickets to Patriots games when I couldn’t go? Did I give you free drinks on Christmas Eve before I closed?”

Mickey looked confused. Too many questions. He was still processing the first question, “I think it was twenty-one years.”

Zeke who had two fewer beers than Mickey was a bit more coherent, said, “All the above is true. What’s that got to do with anything?”

“Between us and I will deny I ever said it if you repeat to anybody, plus I will bust a bottle over your heads if you repeat a word of what I say, you understand?” said Gus.

“Hey, Gus, you know us, it’s in the vault. You and Marie splitting, is that it? I never hit on her. It wasn’t me,” said Mickey.

Gus wanted to bust a bottle across Mickey’s head but resisted the temptation. He said, “This is what I got to say, do you really want to get mixed up with Gallino? Do you really think the package is harmless? I tell you to think about it. And, don’t spend the one-hundred. You ought to give it back. That’s it. I’ve said my piece.” Gus turned and walked down to the end of the bar and returned to washing mugs and shot glasses.

Zeke looked at Mickey. Mickey looked back at Zeke. Zeke turned and stared into his beer. Mickey finished his beer and signaled for another one. He turned to Zeke and said, “What are we going to do, Zeke? I’m scared.”

Are Zeke and Mickey in over their heads? What is in the box? What’s Tony Gallino up to?

He Forgot To Put Down The Toilet Seat

by

The group of five people, three men, and two women, turned their attention from the figure on the folding chair to Farlo, Tina, and Joey G.

A no nonsense, buff, thirty something Hispanic woman, sat in the center of the group. She wore a black sports bra and black workout power tights. Her six-pack visible. She stared at Farlo for a moment, “It took you long enough, Farlo.”

Farlo said, “I was slowed down by the kid, Mia,” Farlo kept his eyes on the woman and pointed back toward the entrance with his thumb.

“Do you mean the creeping looking homeless guy that’s using you for a human shield?”

“That would be the one,” said Farlo.

A fiftyish, crewcut gray haired guy wearing a muscle shirt and sporting biceps that looked like an oversized orange was implanted in them said, “I heard about Filo sticking you with this job. The kid must be a piece of work.”

“You don’t know the half of it, Tango,” said Farlo. “He’s only been with one woman in his entire life.”

“That’s not true,” came Joey G’s voice from somewhere behind Farlo.

Farlo didn’t turn around, he growled, “You can’t count any woman where you were so drunk or stoned you can’t remember the event.”

“Okay, it’s one,” said Joey G.

The group of five laughed.

Farlo said, “Any luck with Harry J?”

Mia said, “Filo told us no rough stuff. What we’re doing now is an intervention. For the past two weeks, Harry Js been on a tough diet. We made him go straight vegan. No meat, no dairy, no fish, no life.”

A wiry, tall, thin, sandy haired guy said, “I object. I’m a vegan. It wasn’t punishment. It was more of a detox for Harry J. And, I’d appreciate it if everyone here would say, Vee Gan instead of Vay Gan. It’s insensitive to vegans when you purposely do that.”

“Chill,” said Mia. “Then she turned back to Farlo, “It’s been a long time since we hooked up. Too long. When we finish this, why don’t you and I head out to O’Rourke’s for a few beers and talk about where we’ll go for R & R?”

From behind Farlo, “I don’t believe this.”

Farlo said, “Can we go to O’Malley’s? It’s a bit quieter, and a more sophisticated crowd.”

From behind Farlo, “What are you going to do with the three women, you promised you’d meet?”

Mia looked at Farlo, “He hasn’t read the manual, has he?”

From behind Farlo, “I don’t believe this.”

“You already said that kid. Come up with a new line,” snarled Farlo.

Two guys, who looked like Navy Seals, who wouldn’t sit near the vegan guy looked at Mia. She nodded. They got up from their chairs walked passed Farlo, fist bumped him as they passed and sidled up to Joey G.

“I didn’t do anything. He made me do it. I was coerced. He’s a lunatic. He’s nuts. He needs to be locked up,” screamed Joey G.

Farlo half turned, “Stuff it, kid. Suck it up.”

“I don’t want to suck it up,” said Joey G.

The two Navy Seal looking guys picked Joey G up and carried him to the front of the group. Mia, who in the meantime got another folding chair and placed it in front of Harry J. The two Navy Seal guys sat Joey G in the empty folding chair and then took a step toward Harry J. They stood on either side of Harry J. They turned and faced the group. Harry J was awake, but he had his eyes closed tight.

Mia said, “It’s time Harry J. Or should I use your real name?”

“No. Don’t blow my cover,” said Harry J, his eyes still closed.

“We won’t blow your cover, if you’ll open your eyes,” said Mia.

Harry J opened his eyes. He stared at Joey G. Joey G stared back at Harry J.

“What am I supposed to do, Farlo?” asked Joey G.

Farlo grumbled, “Sit still and be quiet.”

“I can do that,” said Joey G sitting still and being quiet.

Harry J said, “You know me?”

Joey G made a zipper motion that his lips were sealed and he couldn’t speak.

Harry J said, “Farlo? You ever get this kid to read the manual.”

“He refuses to read the manual. He thinks it doesn’t exist.”

“What’s he got, cauliflower rice for brains?” Harry J snarled.

“Kid, I’m going to give it to you straight,” snarled Harry J sounding as he were doing a Farlo impersonation.

Joey G shrugged his shoulders, made off like he was bored.

“Your mom’s doing time. I’ll give her credit. She’s handling it well. She’s got another four years before she can come up for parole. Maybe she’ll get it, maybe she won’t. She has a trigger point temper.”

Joey G broke the code of silence, “How do you know her?”

“We shacked up for a week, thirty-four years ago. I thought it was a perfect match until she blew a fuse when I forgot to put the toilet seat down. Hey, it’s a guy thing women don’t understand.”

The vegan interrupted, “Sensitive males understand.”

“So?” said Joey.

“I’m your father,” said Harry J.

“My father? I don’t believe you,” said Joey G.

“It’s true, kid. Farlo sent in your DNA for comparison. One-hundred percent certainty.”

“Some father,” said Joey G.

“Some son,” said Harry J.

“Okay, you two, get up and hug. Me and Farlo can feel romance in the air,” said Mia.

Harry J stood. Joey G stood.

Joey G said, “Dad, can you help me out of a jam tonight?”

“What is it son?” asked Harry J.

“I’m supposed to meet two women at O’Rourke’s tonight. Would you like one?”

“What are we waiting for, Joey G?” said Harry J wrapping his muscular arms around Joey G.

“Dad, one more question?”

“Anything?”

“Who’s Filo?”

He’s Channeling Dirty Harry

by

Three tough looking dudes and one tough looking dame came out the back door and stared at the garbage truck first, Farlo second, and Joey G third. The dame stepped in front of the two dudes and spoke to Farlo, “What gives? Trash pickup isn’t until tomorrow.”

Farlo said, “I know that. You know that. You know who doesn’t know that?”

The tough dame said, “Who?”

“The city. The buffoons who run this show are squeezing the crap out of the little guy. They got us working a double shift. It’s thrown everything off.”

The taller of the tough dudes said, “I think he’s right. There sons of bitches down there. I remember when I was busted for dealing dope, they didn’t let me call my lawyer for twenty-four hours.”

Farlo said, “You still selling? My partner and me can use some.”

“It depends,” said the taller of the two tough dudes.

“Depends on what?” said Farlo.

“How much cash you got,” said the taller of the tough dudes.

The smaller of the tough dudes and the tough dame were now interested in the conversation.

“Let’s see the color of your money,” said the taller of tough dudes.

“It’s green. Don’t give me the stuff you watch on cable TV. I’ve been around the block. I don’t think you’ve got drugs. You want to take my cash. Not going to happen taller of the tough two dudes,” snapped Farlo.

“Wait a minute old dude. How do you know my name?” said the taller of the tough two dudes.

“Who you calling old dude? I hope you were talking to small piece of crap next to you and not me. Because if you were talking to me I’m going to give you Harry Morton’s number.”

“Who’s this Harry Morton? He wants some drugs?” asked the taller of the tough two dudes.

“He’s over on Rey Street, he’s an undertaker. Because you and your two stooges are going to be laid out there. He does the pro bono work for the city.”

Joey G had worked his way back and opened the passenger side door, “What are you doing. These guys are bad. Let’s get out of here.”

“Go back to the last pile of garbage you picked up and see if you dropped your attitude in there,” growled Farlo. Tina said, “Grrrrrrr.”

Joey G ran around the front of the garbage truck. He stopped in front of Farlo’s door. He spread his legs apart, he placed his hands on his hips and stared at the two tough hombres and one tough mujer. “You want a piece of him, turkey. Maybe I should say gerbils, you have to come through me. If you want to come through me, you’re going to be in rehab for the next five years.”

Farlo reached out the window and tapped Joey G on the shoulder, “What the hell are you doing?”

Joey G half turned his head around and said, “I’m channeling Clint Eastwood from one of his Dirty Harry movies.”

“You know they were movies, right?” said Farlo as he opened the door. Farlo stepped out of the garbage truck, pushed Clint Eastwood or Joey G, take your pick, aside.

“You want a piece of him, you’re going to have to come through me,” snarled Farlo, taking an aggressive step toward the three stooges.

The tough dame took a step forward, “I’m not afraid of you, old dude. Before I take you out, I have a question.”

“I only have time for one question, so don’t try to sneak two questions in to your one question. I can spot the double question as easily as a robin finds a worm. But if you got a question and want an answer, I got a question for you. I’ll ask mine first, then you can ask yours second.”

“Yah,” said Joey G backing up Farlo.

“That’s not fair, I said I had a question first, so I should go first,” said the tough dame.

“Yah,” said the two tough guys in unison.

Farlo said, “I got back up in the front seat. You want a piece of her there won’t be enough left of you to stuff a turkey on Thanksgiving.”

The smaller of the two tough guys said, “There’s only one dame who’s tougher than us and it’s the tough dame right here.”

The tough dame did an Arnold Schwarzenegger body builder’s pose and flexed her right bicep.

Joey G whispered to Farlo, “She’s got great guns.”

“You three really want to dance? You can save yourself a lot of pain by packing up and moving out of town. Before you do, I want to know where you’re parking Harry J.”

Joey G whispered, “Offer to have a beer with them like you did earlier with the Nazi’s.”

Farlo whispered back, “Channel the caped crusader.”

“I don’t like Batman. I like Ironman.”

The three stooges locked arms, stood in front of the door. The tough dame said, “You want Harry J, you’re going to have to come through us.”

Will Farlo, Tina, and Joey G rescue Harry J? Will they find out why Harry J is so important? What is Filo’s role in all of this? Who is Filo?

Paco’s Tacos & The Garbage Truck

by

Farlo took a right onto Alameda. He straightened the truck out, and jammed the  brakes. Unfortunately, he stopped in the middle of the road causing the car behind him to veer to left to avoid back ending the garbage truck. Veering to the right would have been a better course of action. The driven collied head on with Paco’s Taco food truck. Fortunately, both were traveling under the legal 30 MPH limit.

“You don’t know how to drive. I bet you don’t have a license,” said Joey G.

“Watch it, kid. Just because I gave you a name with an attitude, doesn’t give you permission to toss your attitude at me. Get out and get three bags of tacos from Paco. Use Martinez’s credit card. While you’re waiting ask Paco he knows the location of the crack house.”

“You are so prejudiced. How do you know the food truck operator’s name is Paco? The used it because it’s clever advertising. It’s easy to remember, ” said Joey G.

Farlo gave him a look. Then said, “I almost have my evening set up if we can rescue Harry J within the hour. Don’t mess this up on me. Take Tina with you for backup.”

Joey unbuckled, kicked around the Starbucks cups on the floor and the carry all. He got out, Tina followed.

“Where do you think you’re going?” barked Farlo.

“I’m going to get tacos and info,” said Joey G.

“Not until you police your garbage and clean your side of the car. You’re taking advantage of Martinez.”

“Me? You got to be kidding,” Joey G came right back.

“Tina!” growled Farlo.

Tina jumped on Joey G’s chest and went eyeball to eyeball, vicious mouth to quivering lips.

“Okay, okay, call her off. I’ll clean it up.”

“That’s better. Tina watch him,” said Farlo.

Ten minutes later Joey G returned to the garbage truck carrying three bags of tacos. Tina right behind him in case a taco dropped out of the overladen bags. He opened the door, climbed into the passenger seat. Tina crawled in behind him and waited for her feast. Joey put Tina’s bag between the driver and passenger seat. He didn’t have a chance to take the tacos out of the bag. Tina was all over it, like flies on flypaper, bear on honey, and plaque on un-flossed and un-brushed teeth.

“Well?” said Farlo.

“How did you know his name was Paco? Don’t tell me. I have more important information. The crack house is not a crack house. It’s a clothing store specializing in pants and underwear for plumbers. It’s just up the street.”

“I got to give them credit. Who would’ve figured that a crack house for plumbers would be a front for Manchurian mob?” said Farlo as a matter of fact.

“The Manchurian mob? Are they dangerous? What are they doing with Harry J? They’ll probably kill us. Can’t we say we tried and Harry J was collateral damage? Boy, these tacos are the best,” added Joey G.

Farlo took a bite, he turned to his right and saw Tina staring at him. Tina finished her six tacos and wanted to order seconds. Farlo took his bag of tacos and placed it on the floor. “Enjoy them girl. You earned it.”

Farlo put the garbage truck in gear and waved at Paco as he pulled by the food truck. Paco hollered, “Hey, the homeless creep who tried to tell me his name was Martinez didn’t tell me they was for you, man. Next time it’s on the house.”

“Not a problem, Paco. Give Maria and Paco junior a hug for me.”

“Will do, man. Be careful. There are some bad dudes in the crack house. They make me pay protection for selling on this street.”

“No more. You’re all paid up. I’ll talk to them,” said Farlo.

“You the man, Farlo. Anything I can do for you, you name it.”

“Adios, Paco.”

“Via con dios, Farlo,” said Paco.

Farlo drove under the speed limit down Alameda. He said, “It’s a bit more complicated. I promised Paco we’d convince the Manchurian mob to stop asking protection money.”

“Don’t forget about Harry J. How do you know Paco?” asked Joey G.

“It’s a long story. I’ll give you executive summary. I met him. I did him a favor. We have a history.”

“That’s an executive summary? You didn’t tell me anything,” complained Joey G.

“Exactly. Get your head in the game. The Crack House is up on the right.”

Farlo took a right down an alley way and at the end of the alley way, he took a left down another alley way. Trash was lined on both sides of the alley. He stopped the garbage truck behind the Crack House.

“Get out and start collecting garbage and putting it into the truck.”

“Why? I’m not a garbage man?” said Joey G.

“You are now, kid. Get into the part before I toss you into the garbage.”

“You ever hear of the word please?” asked Joey G.

“No. Move it.”

Will Farlo, Tina, and Joey G finally rescue Harry J? Will Farlo convince the Manchurian mob to stop collecting protection money from Paco? Who’s Filo?

Commandeer the Garbage Truck

by

“You’re so tight, you squeak when you walk. I want to get paid. Can you at least give me an allowance?” pouted Joey G.

Farlo, had the B & W in cruise control at 95 miles an hour through a series of hospital, residential, and high end shopping zones where the maximum speed was 30 miles an hour. He was talking on his cell phone, looking occasionally at Joey G, nodding his head, and then balanced the steering wheels between his knees and started texting. His traffic violations exponentially adding up.

Farlo continued texting. He turned toward Joey G. Joey G screamed, grabbed hold of the steering wheel and pulled it sharply to the right, avoiding getting broadsided by a city garbage truck. The B & W instead, went through the plate glass window of Rokowski’s finest jewelry. The B & W came a rest with its hood smashed into a case holding expensive diamond engagement rings.

“I suppose you’re going to scream at me and give me a gig for saving your life. I don’t care anymore. Gig me. Scream at me. Make me do pushups. It doesn’t matter.”

“I was talking to Filo. You came up in our conversation. That’s all you need to know. BTW, you passed the toughness test, Joey G. You don’t care anymore. Let’s go, we’ll commandeer the garbage truck. You commandeer it. Use Tina, I’ll be right behind you. This is your first solo test.”

“Filo was talking about me? I passed the toughness test?” Joey G, beaming with pride, was out of the B & W first, Tina followed Joey out the passenger door. He sprinted out of the jewelry shop and headed down 4th Ave toward the city garbage truck that was parked at the curb with the driver and her assistant pointing at the jewelry store.

It took one minute, thirty-three seconds according to Farlo for Joey G to reach the garbage truck.

Joey G came to stop in front of the garbage truck workers, he said, “Police, the name is Martinez, I’m commandeering the truck, we’re on an emergency call.”

The fully figured, radiantly beautiful, African American woman garbage truck driver said, “Not so fast Martinez, who’s going to pick the trash on 4th Ave? These people have an expectation of the garbage department. We have high standards even though we pick up refuse.”

Joey G looked around for Farlo. There was no Farlo. He looked around for Tina. Tina was two stops ahead sniffing at garbage bags from Bubba’s Barbeque Shoppe.

Joey G said the first thing that came into his mind, “Don’t worry about the garbage, we’ll take care of it as soon as we respond to the emergency.”

The garbage truck driver looked at Joey G. “You don’t look like a Martinez, you’re too white.”

“I’m full bloodied Mexican Senorita. If you have time, why don’t we meet at O’Rourke’s for a margarita after my shift, say 9 p.m.?”

“Only a cool Mexican dude would hand me that line. The truck is yours, cool Mexican dude, see you at O’Rourke’s.

Joey climbed into the cab of the garbage truck. He called for Tina. Tina came galloping down 4th Ave. In two bounds, she was in the truck, the remains of three mostly eaten beef ribs from Bubba’s Barbeque Shoppe in her mouth.

He put the garbage truck in gear when the passenger door opened. Farlo jumped in as Joey was pulling out. “Good work Kid. Who’s going to pick up the garbage? The city garbage department has high standards.”

“Martinez?” Joey asked.

“I’ve got her from 8 to 9. I have Margaret from 9:30 to 10:30 and Kelly from 11 to closing.”

“You’re nuts, they’ll kill you. You can’t treat them that way,” said Joey G.

“You think they’ll mind when I give them a ring from Rokowski’s?”

“You stole the rings? You’re a thief on top of everything else,” said Joey.

“Don’t call me a thief until you walk a mile in my shoes,” said Farlo.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” asked Joey driving within the legal speed limit.

“Who the hell knows. It usually works and generates lots of sympathy,” said Farlo.

“Thanks for the tip. Do you mind it if I occasionally use it?” asked Joey.

“Not at all,” said Farlo.

“I think I’m getting the hang of working with you. The garbage truck driver is meeting me at O’Rourke’s at 9. Do you have an extra ring?”

Farlo looked at his cell phone. It’s 7:40. I’ll never make it in time for Martinez. I’m going to call and move her to midnight to closing. I’ll move Kelly back to 10 to 11:45, and I’ll put Margaret in from 8:30 to 9:45. Don’t bother me while I text. It’s getting complicated.”

“Alameda is five minutes away. How do you want to handle the crack house?”

“I’m dealing in human relations issues, don’t bother me,” said Farlo.

How will Farlo juggle three dates on the same night? Will the rescue Harry J? Do they even care about Harry J? Who will pick up the trash on 4th Ave.?

I Don’t Want To Compound My Felonies

by

Farlo’s driving the black and white, Joey is in the passenger seat, Tina is sitting on Joey’s lap with her head hanging out the window. Her tongue flying in the wind, her ears flapping. Farlo ignores stop signs, red lights, orange turning red lights, photo enforced red light intersections and signs prohibiting left turns, right turns, U turns, and one-way streets. Joey’s eye lids appear to be super glued together.

“Let me know when we get to the crack house,” he murmured.

“I’m worried about you, Chico. You’ll get the sniff of crack and fall off the wagon,” said Farlo clipping an SUV stopping a red light.

“What’s eating you, Chico?” said Farlo.

“What’s with the Chico bit? My name’s Joey, not Chico. You clipped the SUV, are you going to stop and exchange papers?”

“Why, Chico?”

“Stop calling me Chico and get this thing off my lap,” Joey Demanded.

Farlo did a quarter turn of his head toward Joey, “Joey doesn’t work unless it’s matched with a last name. What’s your last name? I don’t remember you telling me.”

“I thought you knew everything about me. You’re not so smart. You act like a rabid dog. You don’t think things through. That’s why we’re in deep trouble. I do not want to be in the same cell as you when we go to prison. BTW, it’s Ginarco.”

“I like it. From now on, you’re Joey G. That’s a name with an attitude. Now act like it,” growled Farlo and he turned the black and white into a Starbucks lot. He parked the car, reached over to the glove compartment, fished around, smiled at what his hand touched and pulled out Martinez’s police department credit card.

“Let’s go in and order. We need our energy if we’re going hit a crack house. I’m going to get a half dozen of somethings with meat, eggs and cheese for Tina.”

“What if they ask for ID?”

“Where’s your attitude Joey G? Use it,” snarled Farlo.

Tina heard the words meat, eggs, and cheese and jumped off Joey G’s lap and headed to the back seat where she sat on her haunches eagerly expecting a lavish meal.

Farlo opened the door, got out, stretched his arms over his head, wiggled his back, heard it click in place and turned toward the car. He glared at Joey G sitting in the passenger seat, still buckled. “What do you think you’re doing Joey G? Get your butt out here or you don’t eat or drink.”

“I don’t want to compound the ten felonies we’ve committed.”

“I’m signing your name to the voucher. Your butt is cooked and I’m going to char it,” snapped Farlo.

Joey G unbuckled, got out of the B & W and slammed the door. “That’s it. Give me the card,” he demanded. His fists were clenched.

“You’re going have to take it from me. Let’s see how tough you are, Joey G.”

Joey G came rushing at Farlo, his eyes closed, his arms flailing, throwing punches from every angle. Farlo sat down on a chair at an outside table and watched Joey G flail off the sidewalk and fall onto the drive through roadway.

“Why didn’t you tell me I was going to crash?” Joey G said siting on his butt looking at the tear in his sweatpants, and dabbing at his bruised knee with part of the sweatpants fabric.

“You know who wore those pants before you? You might be dabbing an infectious disease into your system. You don’t think of possibilities, Joey G.”

“I do to.”

“Do not. I’m hungry. Let’s get some coffee, food and talk about what we’re going to do when we hit the crack house.”

Farlo and Joey G stepped into Starbucks. We’re here to get our coffee, grub, and rescue Harry J in the next forty-five minutes if I’m going to make it back in time to meet Martinez at O’Rourke’s. It’s doable if you don’t screw things up again.”

“How did I screw things up?”

“Do I have to remind you of your stupid karate move?”

“I was channeling Bruce Lee.”

“It looked like you were channeling Big Bird.”

“That was before I was known as Joey G.”

The beautiful dance major female barista looked at Farlo, then Joey G. He said, “Officer, this homeless bum with you?”

“No. He followed me in looking for a handout. His shopping cart is parked in a handicap zone.”

The barista,  looked at Joey G, “Don’t give me any trouble.”

Farlo winked at the barista, and said, “If he does, I’ll use him for field goal practice. You give him a coffee and an egg sandwich on me.”

“Besides being the most handsome cop I’ve ever seen, you’re a humanitarian. I get off at ten, want to meet at O’Rourke’s?

Farlo gave the barista a smile that would melt an iceberg.”

“Everything’s on the house, what’s your name? Mine is Kelly. Here’s my cell number,” said Kelly scribbling her cell phone number on the back of the receipt.

“Farlo.”

“Not the Farlo. For real?”

“For real.”

“OMG,” Kelly clutched her heart with her two hands.

Joey G gasped, stifled an acid reflux, and headed for the restroom.

Five minutes later they were in the B & W and headed to Alameda and the crack house.

Will they rescue Harry J? Is it too late for Harry J? Did Joey G find his groove? Who’s Filo

He’s A Righteous Dude

by

Farlo slid to a stop, ten feet into the East wing. He pivoted, military style, turned and waited for Joey to reach him. Tina sat on her haunches. Joey walked toward them like the hunchback of Notre Dame.

“What do you think you’re doing, kid?”

“I’m getting into character,” said Joey.

“And, what character are you channeling?”

“Rocky, from the Rocky III or the Rocky IV or the Rocky V movie. I still trying to get it down.”

“You look worse than the old guy, Mickey, who played his trainer. If you’re going to run with the big dogs, you got to pick up the pace. It’s about time you developed a character with an  attitude.”

“I don’t mind running with toy poodles,” said Joey.

Tina growled at the word, poodle.

Farlo grabbed hold of Joey’s bicep and squeezed, “Let’s go, Kermit.”

“Yeow! That hurts, let go of me. I am not a frog,” hollered Joey loud enough to cause two beefy looking attendants at the end of the hall to look up from their smart phones.

A baldheaded attendant with a swastika tattooed on his skull called out, “You need some help with that frog?”

“I’m not a frog. Ouch, let go,” said Joey.

Farlo yanked on Joey’s arm and started walking toward the attendants. Tina walked alongside Farlo, her eyes on the swastika dude. The other dude’s face was a cross between a pit bull and an angry Rottweiler.

Joey whispered, “You’re going to get us killed. They’re killers, I can tell.”

Farlo whispered back in his gravelly voice, “We got them outnumbered, they’re three of us. That is, if I count you. Counting you is against all reason and logic.”

“Don’t count on me. I want to make love not war,” said Joey.

“With your wimpy attitude you think you’ll ever have a woman fall for you? We both know the answer, so don’t make a lame excuse.”

“Where you going with this piece of crap masquerading as a frog?” the Nazi said.

“I’m Maxwell, this piece of crap can identify Harry J. Where is he?” Farlo commanded.

The Rottweiler dude said, “You’re not Maxwell. I know Maxwell he busted me for sexual assault, armed robbery, and attempted murder. I got probation because I only had ten priors. My partner is my intern. Who the hell are you?” The Rottweiler took a menacing step toward Farlo.

Farlo stood his ground, he let go of Joey’s arm. Tina sat on her haunches awaiting a command. Farlo put his right hand to his chin. Then said, “You got a mother?”

“So. Everybody got a mother.”

“She alive?”

“She’s doing time at the woman’s prison. You want to make something out of it?”

“No. I wanted to know where I send the sympathy card.”

“The Nazi took a step toward Farlo. You’re going to die and your mama ain’t going to get a sympathy card.”

Farlo said, “I wasn’t going to buy one, I was going to send an e-card. They’re free.”

“No kidding?” said the Rottweiler.

“I didn’t know that,” said the Nazi.

At that moment, Joey jumped two feet in the air, landed, stumbled, fell to a knee and came up in a karate stance he learned from watching an old Bruce Lee movie. “Hi Yee,” he screamed.

The two attendants started laughing. Farlo looked at Joey and shook his head. He turned back to the two mean dudes, “What do you say we get this done, then go out and have a beer. First two rounds are on me.”

The Nazi said, “You are righteous man. I got no quarrel with a dude who wants to drink with me.”

“Me neither. I can’t wait to tell mom about you when I visit her on Sunday,” chimed in the Rottweiler.

“Can I come?” Asked Joey.

“No,” The Nazi, Rottweiler, and Farlo said in unison. Tina barked.

“I’d like to help you out with Harry J. That was his room over there. But, they took him over to the crack house on Alameda. What’s your real name?” asked the Rottweiler.

“Farlo.”

“I’m sorry,” said the Nazi

“Me too,” said the Rottweiler.

“Don’t tell Filo on us,” said the Nazi.

“Don’t hurt us,” said the Rottweiler.

“Can we still have our beers?” they both asked in unison.

“Will this ever end? Who’s Filo?” asked Joey.

Farlo fist bumped the two guys. Pulled out his smart phone. He called Duffy, owner of Duffy’s. Told Duffy to let the two guys drink as much as they wanted and to put it on Filo’s tab.

Poor Harry J. Will they rescue him? Who’s Filo? Will Joey get his act together?

Do I Have To Tell You Everything?

by

Farlo, Tina, and Joey stood outside the black and white. Joey half turned and stared at the black and white. “Tina’s not going to be happy. You’ll be lucky if she doesn’t figure out you’re a fake and tosses your butt in the can.” Joey gloated.

Farlo not looking at Joey, said, “I got a hundred dollars says she asks me to go to her place for a glass of wine after O’Rourke’s.”

“You know I don’t have any money. You quit my job for me. You haven’t paid me a cent in the three weeks we’ve known each other. How can I make a bet with money I don’t have?”

“The only reason you haven’t been paid is that Filo knows you can’t handle cash.”

“How does Filo know that?” asked Joey.

“I told him,” growled Farlo. Then he added, “Give me your left arm.”

“Why? What are you going to do with it?”

“I’m going to cut it off and beat you over the head with it. What do you think I’m going to do with it?”

Joey stuck out his left arm, “You’re kidding, right?”

Farlo snapped the cuffs back on Joey, “Let’s go punk.”

“Why the attitude?” said Joey.

“I’m getting into character, don’t take it personal,” growled Farlo.

“What’s my character?” said Joey.

“Do I have to tell you everything?”

“Un huh,” said Joey.

“You’re a punk. I’m dragging you along to identify Harry J. You’re turning state’s evidence against him,” said Farlo.

“What did Harry do? What did I do?”

“It’s all fake, you didn’t do anything. Make it up. Wing it. Tap dance your way through. Do you want me to write Cliff Notes on your arm?”

“That’s how I got through high school,” said Joey.

“I have no clue what Filo saw in you. No one on the team wanted to take you in. Filo overruled us. He’s the boss.”

“Filo knows greatness. Who’s Filo?” asked Joey.

“Never mind, punk. It’s go time,” snarled Farlo dragging Joey to the door.

A chubby, retired Walmart employee now supplementing his income as a security guard blocked the door’s entrance, “Where are you going?”

Farlo took one look at the guy and said, “One of two places, I going through you or kicking your ass and walking through unimpeded.” Tina growled.

“Sorry officer, simple misunderstanding. Nice doggy,” said the guard and stepped out of the way.

Farlo pulled Joey through and pushed him. Joey stumbled, looked up at Farlo, “A little less realism would be a big help.”

A very official svelte looking woman in a navy blue skirt, navy blue suit jacket and white silk blouse, and stiletto heels came rushing over. “Just hold it there. Who are you? Who is this putrid looking creature in handcuffs? Dogs are not allowed in here.”

Farlo glanced at her. “You’re not bad looking. If you let your hair down, ditched the business suit, and wore a little makeup I could dig you. As it is, I’m tied up with Officer Martinez tonight. She’s got the look. You could learn a lot from her.”

“What are you talking about?” said the woman.

“I’m talking about what makes the world go around and around and around.”

“I still don’t know what you’re talking about,” said the woman.

“I’ll tell you who does?” said Farlo.

“Who?” asked the woman mesmerized by Farlo’s deep blue eyes.

“Harry J. He’ll tell you all about it. Where is he?”

“Harry J? Harry J? Why? Why? Why?” she stuttered, her eyes unable to walk away from Farlo’s magnetic pull.

“Your digital recording is stuck on two tracks, sister. You want to take the heat on this caper, you won’t like women’s prison. You’ll have to wear a jump suit that wasn’t purchased at Saks.”

“Oh dear,” said the woman.

“The last I saw him, he was in Room 112 or was it Room 117 or was it 100. They keep moving him around. My name’s Margaret Johnson. I’m the activities director. Do you really think I would be more attractive with your tips?”

“You’d knock my socks off?” said Farlo.

“What are you doing about 8 tonight?”

“What about me?” asked Joey.

“Your eyes look like fish eyes. I don’t date sardines, kid.”

Farlo looked at Joey, shook his head, “You got to learn when to keep quiet, kid. You don’t have a clue.”

“Will you teach me?” begged Joey.

“We’ve got to rescue Harry J first. Let’s move out.”

Farlo and Tina started down the east wing. Joey trailed behind. Margaret watched and blew a kiss toward Farlo, he turned, smiled and stuck up his arm to make as if he caught it.

Will they ever rescue Harry J? Who is Harry J and why is he important? Will Farlo and Margaret get together? What about Martinez? Will Joey ever meet Filo? Who’s Filo?

It’s All Show Biz

by

Farlo cut in front of Honest Johns Emergency Plumbing truck, which caused honest John and his son who was on probation for possession with intent to sell to swerve in front of a drop off mom who was rushing from the elementary school where she dropped off her two kids. She was going to Gold’s Gym where she had a 9:30 a.m. appointment with her personal trainer and lover. The drop off mom, wanting to avoid hitting honest John, swerved into the passing lane where she sideswiped a senior citizen bus headed to the Bingo Hall for a Bingo Tournament. The senior bus back ended a farm to market truck carrying 750 cantaloupes that rolled out of the truck and crossed the highway causing a series of accidents, the likes of which had not been seen since the great fog, two weeks earlier.

Joey was looking out the back window, “You got to see this, Farlo. It’s mayhem. People are crashing into each other, cantaloupes are all over the road. Seven traffic helicopters are hovering over the scene. If I didn’t know better, I’d have thought you caused it, but it happened behind us. Go figure.”

“That’s what happens, kid, when people don’t care about each other. Me? I do my best to drive carefully and always look out for the other guy,” said Farlo as he took Exit 231, went down the ramp, at the end of the ramp, he accelerated through the stop sign, and hung a left against a sign that said NO LEFT TURN. An oncoming driver avoided broadsiding Farlo and veered into a fire hydrant. The resulting geyser left a third of the town without water.

Joey had his face pressed against the window, his one free fist banging against the unbreakable glass, he mumbled nearly incoherently, “You need to be locked up. If I ever get out of here alive, I’ll tell it all,” screamed Joey.

“Who you gonna tell it to, kid? Your mommy? You’re naïve. You haven’t lived. You have no sense of adventure. You want life served on a platter with all the trimmings, that’s what you want. To you a six pack beer and a delivery pizza tops your bucket list. Life doesn’t work that way. Some days you’re lucky if you get a bad cup of coffee. Other days, it’s a good one if a bird doesn’t crap on your head. You see where I’m going?” snarled Farlo.

“Honestly? I have no idea where you’re going. Give me a hint,” said Joey.

“Where have you been for the past 24 hours, we’re going to the Last Stop Assisted Care Facility to rescue Harry J. You’re not the brightest bulb on the planet. I’d guess you’re a few cookies short of a dozen. It’s what the dope did to your pathetic brain. I’m working with silly putty instead of a perfect piece of marble, see what I’m saying.”

“I’m tired of your insults, Farlo. I’m not silly putty, I know what’s going on,” said Joey.

Farlo turned down Blanco and into a residential neighborhood. A four way stop loomed fifty feet in front of him, three cars were in line waiting their turn. Farlo hit the accelerator, turned the wheels to right, went up over the curb, and drove across three lawns leaving a trail of tire marks in perfectly manicured grass.

When he exited the last lawn, he narrowly avoided two joggers, flipped them off as he turned right on Oak Street. He looked in the rearview mirror and saw one of the joggers taking out her iPhone and snapping photos of his black and white,

“Martinez is not going to like this. She might not be in a good mood when I get to O’Rourke’s. BTW, you know what’s going on?”

“I don’t know what’s going on. I was trying to make conversation,” said Joey.

“Last Chance is two blocks up, just past the cemetery. If we don’t save Harry J, it’s going to look bad on your report. I wouldn’t want to be in your shoes, kid. Filo doesn’t tolerate failure.”

“Me! Why me? You’re the nut job. I’m spilling my guts to Filo,” said Joey.

“Look in the mirror, kid. You think Filo’s going to believe you? He’d believe I won the 2 billion Powerball before he’d believe you.”

“It’s 2 billion? Can we stop and buy a ticket? I got a question before we go in, what’s your last name? Is it Maxwell like you told Martinez?” asked Joey.

“The name’s Farlo. That’s it. It’s like Adele, Madonna, Sinatra.”

“They all had two names, what’s your other name?” asked Joey.

“It’s their show biz name. Here’s a tip for you, kid. It’s all show biz. It’s all a struggle to grab the glitter and the glitz. That’s what we’re after, the glitter and the glitz.”

“I thought we’re after Harry J.”

Farlo ignored Joey, pulled up to the guardhouse in front of the gate, the black and white’s lights flashing, Farlo lowered his window, and barked at the guard who was checking his Facebook page, “Open the gate.”

“Let me see your badge,” said the guard still staring at his Facebook page.

“Tina,” commanded Farlo.

Tina jumped on Farlo’s lap, stuck her head out the window, growled, her lips curled back over her gums, Farlo holding onto her collar faux restraining her. “This is my badge.”

“Open it.”

“Yes, sir,” said the guard.

Farlo drove down the half-mile driveway and pulled the flashing black and white under the portico. He grabbed hold of a small canister of pepper spray, got out of the car, Tina followed him. Farlo walked around the black and white, opened the rear door, removed Joey’s handcuffs and helped him out of the car.

“Listen up. It’s up to you if we are going to pull this off. Follow my lead,” ordered Farlo.

“That’s all I’ve been doing is following your lead and look where it’s got me. I’ve been handcuffed, classified as a dangerous bed wetter, I’m dressed in Goodwill clothes. I look like I’m homeless. I lost my job. And, I’m running around with some guy with only one name.”

“Perfect cover. Let’s go.”

Will they rescue Harry J? Who’s Filo? Will Joey spill his guts to Filo?

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